


Scars we carry, carry with memories

by lekhak



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Claudia Stilinski, Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Except for Laura Hale, Humor, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Romance, Slow Burn, Social Media, Stilinski Family Feels, Werewolves, and other supernatural creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8761030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lekhak/pseuds/lekhak
Summary: When a tragic accident leaves King Theodore Hale in a wheelchair, the best healer in all of America is called upon - Dr. Stiles Stilinski.But Theo doesn't want to get better, Talia hates Stiles, Derek might be a little engaged to someone else but a little in love with Stiles, Cora is planning to run away, Peter is just done with everyone's shit, and Stiles? He can't stop doing stupid things. But, hey, who said life was going to be easy, anyway?





	1. Tears we bury

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles is conned into a job, John is tortured by his wife and son, and Stiles meets the royal family.

Stiles was quite sure he would have had his medical license revoked a long time ago if he wasn’t the best damn healer in all of California.

He was well known in the Beacon Hills General Hospital for being reckless and impulsive (apparently, the ‘think out of the box’ advice didn’t apply when you’re a healer who is responsible for someone’s life. Who knew, right?). He created new treatments for the same ol’ ailments when bored and had been found stretcher-surfing in the halls while singing Adele in between patients many times. He was loud, abrasive and boisterous when it came to dealing with patients, which was deemed ‘unprofessional’ by the snotty, older healers.

But Stiles had no incentive to correct his behaviour because he knew that in the end, all that mattered was that Stiles had the best track record in California. His intellect made up for what he was lacking in…Well, in his everything.

Which was why he didn’t think twice about grabbing Jackson Whittemore by the back of his neck and throwing him face-first back on the examination table.

“Jackson, if you don’t stop fucking _moving,_ I can’t do anything about this,” Stiles hissed, keeping one hand on the back of Jackson’s neck and the other on his lower back to keep him in place.

“I can’t be still!” Jackson protested and Stiles could see how red his face was. “You’re touching my _ass._ This isn’t exactly a comfortable moment for me.”

“Should’ve thought about that before you decided to mess with a witch,” Stiles said with a shrug before whispering an immobilizing spell. “Now you’re gonna _stay,_ and I’m going to deal with your…situation.”

“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?” Jackson asked bitterly. Normally, immobilizing spells left people relaxed and still, but Jackson was still straining against it, muscles tense all over his body.

“That you have a donkey’s tail protruding from the cleft of your ass? Hell yes, I am,” Stiles crowed, spanking Jackson’s butt cheek as he laughed. “Now shut up. Let me concentrate.”

*

After he had successfully been de-tailed, Jackson pulled up his pants and with a face still burning bright red, mumbled a thank you to Stiles. Just as he rushed out of Stiles’ office, Scott came tumbling in, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Did I just see Jackson Whittemore leave your office?” he asked as he plonked down on Stiles’ table, uncaring of the papers he was crushing.

“Yes, you did,” Stiles replied with a grin.

“And what was he doing here? Bullying you at your workplace too?”

“Actually,” Stiles said, sitting up straighter in his chair, “dear Mr. Whittemore found himself as the target of a very powerful witch’s rage and ended up with a donkey’s tail.”

“What?” Scott exclaimed, eyes wide. He burst out laughing, nearly toppling off the table in his amusement. “Please, _please_ tell me you got pictures.”

“Scott! That is a major breach of privacy. I would _never_ do that to anyone,” Stiles said indignantly, crossing his arms across his chest.

But Scott simply rolled his eyes. “In middle school, he made you run down a hall, completely naked and soaking wet. He also posted pictures of you drunk and, once again, completely naked all over the school in senior year.”

“I remember all that,” Stiles said, a grin spreading slowly across his lips, “which is why I’ve already sent pictures of his tail from various angles to you.”

Scott high-fived Stiles in glee. “I knew it. You’re too clever and conniving to let an opportunity like this to just pass you by. Too smart. Just so…intelligent and…smart,” Scott said, giving Stiles an unrelenting smile.

“I want to agree with you, but I’m sensing a favour coming along,” Stiles said cautiously, eyes narrowed in distrust.

“You know you’re my best friend, right? My _only_ best friend?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed. “What do you want, Scott?”

“I just got a major case offered to me, but for that, I’d have to fly to the Royal City for an extended period of time. And you _know_ Kira will murder me if I go. Stiles, we’ve been married for a year and we still haven’t gone for our honeymoon,” Scott pleaded, eyes round and wide. “We’ve both been too busy and now that we’ve finally managed to plan something out, she will literally _gut_ me if I sabotage our plan.”

“And you want me to go instead?”

“Would you, please?”

“Depends,” Stiles hedged. “How ‘major’ is this case?”

Scott’s innocent, pleading face melted and his lips stretched into a wide grin, as if he had been waiting for Stiles to ask that question. He grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket and pushed it into Stiles’ hands.

Curious and excited, Stiles unfolded the paper fast enough to rip off one of its corners. The first thing he noticed was the name of the patient.

Stiles’ eyes widened as he stared between the piece of paper and his best friend.

“It’s the King.”

*

One thousand, two hundred and twenty-seven miles away, the bell tower chimed eight times and the royal family assembled at the dining table. Talia Hale took her place at the head of the table, motioning for the food to be brought in. Her husband, Theodore Hale, rolled his wheelchair in at the opposite end of the dining table, smiling fondly at his son.

Derek Hale had grown up into a handsome and responsible, young man. The years hadn’t been very kind to him, despite what others assumed when looking at him. He had been forced to grow into a role he had never expected to fall into, to give up his childish smugness and selfishness, and instead learn how to be a leader.

It saddened Theo greatly to see his children live life this way, under a burden they had never been prepared for.

The doors to the dining hall slammed open and Cora rushed in. “I’m sorry,” she said in a rush as she took her place beside her brother. “I got caught up in…in my biology textbook.”

Talia narrowed her eyes in Cora’s direction, no doubt hearing the blip in her daughter’s heartbeat. “Dinner is at eight, Cora,” she said sternly. “Next time you’re late, you won’t be eating.”

Peter scoffed incredulously. “She was _two minutes_ late!” he exclaimed. “What? Next time she does a normal, human thing, you’ll send her to the dungeons?”

“She _isn’t_ a ‘normal’ person, Peter. She’s a princess, and she needs to learn how to behave like one,” Talia answered disinterestedly, cutting up pieces of her fish.

Peter stared at her in disbelief. He didn’t understand how someone could change so much in just two years. The Talia he had always known was cheerful and loving, who cared so much for her children that she would do anything for them. This Talia, the one who was cold and calculative, didn’t feel like his sister at all.

Peter turned his glare to his food, knowing there was no way of getting through to her anymore.

They ate in silence for a while, the sound of cutlery clinking filling up the empty space between them. They worked their way through a tasteless desert that looked like a work of art and waited for the table to be cleared before anyone spoke again.  

“Theo?” she said gently, sounding like the old Talia again. “I talked to Dr. Deaton again and he referred me to another healer.”

Theo sighed, leaning back in his wheelchair. He had already given up on ever walking again, content with getting through what was left of his life in a wheelchair. But he didn’t say that to Talia. It seemed that after everything their family had been through, the only time Talia sounded like herself was when she was focusing all her attention on a particular task. And for the last two years, she had only cared about getting Theo to walk again.

“He said Dr. Stilinski is one of the best healers in the United States and has worked with cases similar to yours before,” Talia said, eyes hopeful.

“Stilinski?” Derek asked, recognizing the name.

“Yes!” Talia said in excitement. “I think he’s related the famous, Polish Mages. I’ve heard they are all incredibly powerful. God, after that last Fae healer, this one should be a breath of fresh air. I don’t think I can handle another over-energetic and disruptive person living here again.”

“What do you think, dad?” Derek asked, giving his father a rare smile.

Theo smiled back, running a hand over Derek’s arm fondly. “I think this one is going to be _the_ One.”

Derek and Cora chuckled, and even Talia smiled, a real smile for once.

Later, as his valet was taking Theo back to his room, Theo sighed.

“Boyd?” he said.

“Yes, sir?” the quiet boy asked in his usual gruff and deep voice. Theo had asked him multiple times to call him by his name, but he considered it a small victory that he had managed to get Boyd to call him ‘sir’ instead of ‘Majesty.’

“What’s the latest count?”

“Nineteen healers have attended to you till date, sir,” Boyd answered.

“And what’s our latest record?”

“The shortest amount of time a healer has spent here is three weeks.”

Theo humphed. “Well, let’s get rid of number twenty in less than that.”

Boyd made a sound of disagreement but didn’t say anything.

*

John Stilinski threw his head back with a groan, scowling at his laughing wife and son. “Can we _please_ stop talking about Jackson Whittemore’s butt? I’m trying to eat here,” he moaned.

Stiles grinned around his spaghetti, slurping it straight down his throat. “Father, dad, pops; why must you rain on my parade? After years of being _tortured_ at the hands of that little shit, I have finally received absolution. Let me _gloat!”_

“I hope you took pictures, Gracjan,” Claudia said, grinning. “If I pull some strings, I think I can have them posted in the newspaper.”

“You can?” Stiles asked in barely contained mirth, bouncing in his chair like a little child.

_“No,”_ John interrupted just as Claudia nodded. “She _can’t_ because that would be illegal,” he added pointedly.

Claudia waved him off. “Oh, John, you worry too much. What is he going to do about it? He posted my beautiful boy’s pictures all over the school. He started it.”

John ignores Stiles, who is nodding along to his mother, and sighs. He loves his wife and he absolutely _adores_ his son, but that doesn’t change the fact that they both can be a pain in the ass sometimes.

John’s mother had been against his marriage. When he had informed her about the wedding – on the day of, so she would have no choice but to accept – she had shouted at him for an hour, warning him against marrying one of the Fae people. She had said that the energy and mischief that seemed exciting to him would soon make him resent Claudia, that he would get tired of her within a week and never be happy with her. She had been wrong. Claudia’s boundless energy balanced out his own placid nature, her positive attitude made him see the world in a better light too and no matter how desolate he felt, Claudia only had to smile to make him feel better.

So it was safe to say that John’s mother had been wrong on every count – except one.

The Fae were known to create trouble wherever they went. Although they looked just like everyone else, they were much superior than an average human being in every other way. If measured using an IQ test for humans, their IQs ranged well above two hundreds and even magically, they were much more powerful than an average Mage. Since an amount of magic that large could not be sustained in a body that was more or less identical to a human body, it needed to be expelled in some form or another. And that meant, that the Fae never ran out of energy. Boundless energy and unfathomably clever minds could only mean one thing; trouble.

Just as John’s mother had predicted, Claudia created chaos wherever she went. After Stiles had been born, it had only taken John about six months to realize that his baby boy was exactly like Claudia. Which meant that John was always in the centre of a whirlwind.

“Sure, he started it,” John agreed, trying to placate his wife. “But that doesn’t mean we have to stoop to his level and do the same, does it?”

Claudia sighed as she pushed around the food on her plate with her fork. “I mean…I guess you’re right,” she said dejectedly before turning sorrowful eyes to her son. “Sorry, kiddo. I guess we’ll just have to pray to the Goddess that he gets pantsed on national television.”

Stiles nodded, equally sad at having his plan foiled, before he froze. “Mom, we could make that happen, couldn’t we?” he said. “He has that speech to give at the Mayor’s gala next week and the press is going to be there. A little magic-”

Before Stiles could go on or John could have a conniption, Stiles’ phone buzzed with a text alert and diverted his attention. He looked down, dragging his spaghetti wet fingers across his screen as he unlocked his phone. He groaned, turning the screen to show Claudia the message.

“It’s Jacob. _Again,”_ he said, scowling.

“The ex-boyfriend?” John asked curiously.

“Yup,” Stiles said, popping the last syllabus. “The one who dumped me on his frickin’ birthday because I danced on top of the table. How fucking childish!”

“Stiles, his _cake_ was on the table,” John reasoned, “and you _stepped_ on it!”

Stiles huffed and crossed his arms indignantly, letting his fork clatter back onto the plate. “I was on the table because I was giving him a birthday dance. But what does he care about? His stupid cake! And I had a whole sex-thing planned for after-”

“I do not want to hear, Stiles,” John said, voice nearly pleading.

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbled, cheeks pinking. His mouth ran off without his permission sometimes. Okay, most times. Alright, alright – it _always_ ran off. “God, why do I date such stupid assholes all the time?”

Claudia ran a soothing had over his messy hair, cooing softly. “It’s okay, Gracjan. I’ll pray to the Goddess for you to finally find the perfect husband for yourself,” she said, ignoring Stiles groan.

_“Mother,_ I told you! I don’t want to get married. I don’t understand how someone can spend their entire life with the same person,” Stiles said and paused to lick his plate clean. “I just want someone who’ll give me a good few months before we walk away, completely content and happy with our decision.”

“And I’ve told _you,_ ‘Stiles,” Claudia said, mocking her son’s nickname. She had given him a beautiful name and to her, 'Stiles' was meaningless and disrespectful to his real name. “You are going to get married. I want to see you happy and settled down.”

“I _am_ happy and settled down.”

“No,” she disagreed. “You are single, lonely, living in your parents’ house and living off one-night stands in between terrible relationships. I know you can do better than that, honey. You _deserve_ better than that.”

“I agree,” John added and Stiles smiled fondly at his parents. “You are a handsome boy – stop whining! You _are_ handsome and you are incredibly smart, even by Fae standards. You deserve more than the trash you keep on dating.”

“Hey, who knows? Maybe you’ll end up reeling in that hot Prince while you’re working, huh?” Claudia added, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh my god, mom, no,” Stiles groaned. “He always looks like he has something up his ass – and not the fun kind of something, if you catch my drift.”

“I catch your drift and I sincerely wish I didn’t,” John said sorrowfully.

Stiles laughed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend your delicate sensibility, father o’ mine,” he said. “But my point is, I don’t think I could ever be with someone who always looked that serious. That just isn’t my thing.”

Stiles’ phone buzzed again and he sighed, grabbing his plate and leaving it in the dish washer before checking his messages.

**(8:32 am) Jacob:** stiles, i miss you. im sorry i dumped you.  
**(7:05 pm) Jacob:** baby pls dont ignore me. i miss you.  
**(7:17 pm) Jacob:** fuck i miss your lips and your body.  
**(7:48 pm) Jacob:** answer me pls :(  
**(9:04 pm) Jacob:** i miss you so much. i miss us.  
**(9:10 pm) Jacob:** just give me one more night with you, baby. i swear i wont bother you again after that.

Stiles stared at the messages as something heavy and unpleasant settled in his stomach.

He knew he was great in bed, all that magical energy stowed inside him meant that he was relentless when it came to sex. He was proud of how he made even the most stoic of men pant at his feet after he was done with them and he wasn’t afraid of how sexually open he was. But he hated that despite what his parents thought, to everyone, his sex drive was the only passable quality about him. Jacob, like all his other ex-boyfriends, only missed him for his body.

And most days, Stiles couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t worth more than a quick fuck.

Shaking away his insecurities, Stiles typed out a reply.

**(9:13 pm) Stiles:** I’ll be over in ten minutes.

Swallowing down the disgust he felt at himself for being so _easy,_ he grabbed his keys and wallet from the table by the front door. “Mom, I’m going out with Scott and Allison!” he shouted. “Don’t wait up, I’ll crash at their place!”

*

Like the idiot that he was, Stiles ended up taking an early flight to the Royal City and found himself stranded the middle of a transport strike. Thankfully, the palace wasn’t too far from the airport so he decided to walk, hoping someone would pity him and give him a ride.

Fortunately, the Goddess decided to bless him and within twenty minutes of walking in the sweltering heat, someone on a bicycle stopped to ask him if he needed any help. Incidentally, the guy, Isaac, was a chef at the palace and was also on his way to the palace. Which is how Stiles found himself sitting on the ball-bustingly uncomfortable backseat of a bicycle, his suitcase rolling behind him, as he made his way to meet the Royal Family for the first time ever.

“What are they like? The Royal Family?” Stiles asked after introductions had been made.

“They are incredible people. Generous, kind, just. They truly deserve to be the ruling family of U.S.A,” Isaac said fervently and Stiles smiled.

“That sounds nice,” Stiles commented, taking in the scenery as they approached the palace gates. “I was so worried they’d be snobby assholes. I don’t want to be stuck working for difficult people.”

He was so enthralled by the thick forest surrounding the palace walls and the wide, sprawling gardens inside as the gates opened for them, that Stiles didn’t even noticed that Isaac had gone suspiciously quiet.

*

_Holy Mother of mine,_ Stiles thought in wonder as he stared wide-eyed around him. _This is fucking incredible._

He didn’t know why it surprised him to see how lavish the inside of the palace was. He had been invited in by a beautiful woman named Erica, who had left him in the lobby as she went and ‘fetched Her Majesty.’ The lobby was all sandstone walls, thick and heavy looking curtains, and furniture that probably cost more than his entire tuition. He felt like he was in a completely different world.

Spotting a suit of armour placed in the far corner of the room, Stiles immediately made it’s way over to it.

“Damn, you _fiiine,”_ he whispered to it as he brought his phone up to take a picture of him passionately making out with the armour.

“What. Is. Happening,” a stern and shocked voice said from behind him and Stiles jumped, pulling his head and tongue back so fast that the helmet of the armour fell off its shoulders.

“Oh my god, I beheaded him!” Stiles said, his attempt at humour falling flat when he accidentally ended up shouting the joke in his nervousness. He bent down to pick up the helmet and plonked it back in place. But as soon as he pulled his hands back, the entire armour collapsed in on itself with a loud clang.

The noise echoed in the large room, Stiles’ heart beating erratically in his chest as he slowly turned to face Alpha Queen Talia Hale. He swallowed at the waves of power and anger radiating off of her, making him even more nervous. She was just as beautiful as everyone said she was. Her hair was as dark as the night sky and her eyes a humble brown.

“Uh, hi?” he said. “I’m Stiles. Dr. Stiles Stilinski. Or maybe you know me as Dr. Gracjan Stilinski, or just Dr. Stilinski. But call me Stiles. Because let’s be honest here, no one can pronounce my actual name.”

Talia was fuming, her nostrils flared in anger as she called out, “Erica! Fix that.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Stiles said demurely. “I didn’t mean to – you know…”

Talia closed her eyes and breathed in and out a couple times before she stepped forward, her lips pulled up in a painful looking smile. “Dr. Stilinski, welcome to the Royal City,” she said, voice biting. “We weren’t expecting you today.”

_Fuck, she hates me, she hates me, she hates meeeee!_

“Uh, yeah, I did-the-do with my ex boyfriend and I was really regretting it so I thought I’d come here early. You know, escape my mistakes,” Stiles said, eyes widening with every word that escaped his mouth.

“Did the do?” Talia asked, frowning distastefully.

“Yeah. You know, the bump-and-grind. The horizontal tango, hiding the sausage, burying the bone – Oh god, please ask me to stop talking,” he said desperately, his face heating up.

“Please, stop talking,” Talia said quickly, her eyes equally wide. “Um, Erica, please show Dr. Stilinski to his room,” she said and Erica obediently showed up at his side. “Dinner is at eight. Don’t be late.”

Stiles nodded quickly. “Bye, Tali.”

Talia froze on her way out, slowly turning back to face Stiles with an expression of utter hatred on her face and her eyes flashing red. “You will call me Queen Talia or Alpha Hale.”

“Yes, Alpha Hale,” he squealed in response. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” she muttered, pressing her fingers to her temples as she walked out.

“Oh my god,” Stiles gasped, his knees giving out as he sunk into the sofa. “Oh my _god.”_

“Were you really making out with the armour?” Erica asked, eyes glinting with amusement.

Stiles hid his face behind his hands as he groaned in embarrassment, though Erica just laughed. “It was for Snapchat!” he said, words muffled by his hands.

“Oh, come on, honey,” Erica said, taking his hands away from his face and leading him out. “Let’s get you out of here before Her Majesty returns and beheads _you.”_

*

Talia glanced at the clock and exhaled slowly through her nose. It was nearly 8:10 and there was still no sign of Dr. Stilinski. She didn’t understand how someone so respected in their profession could be so irresponsible. After the armour debacle, she had told herself to calm down and give Stiles another chance, but he was making it increasingly difficult for her not to simply throw him out.

Just as she was giving up all hope of him showing up at all, the doors to the dining room burst open and a tall figure tripped and fell through the open doors.

“Ugh! Sorry,” Stiles nearly shouted, dusting himself off as he made his way to the table. “I was jamming way too hard to Beyoncé and completely lost track of time. You know how it is, when Queen Bey demands your attention, you can’t just walk away. That’s blasphemous.”

“Queen Bey?” Talia asked in confusion. “What country does she rule?”

Stiles stared dumbfounded at Talia, too shocked to even notice the other members of the Hale family who were all snickering behind their hands. “Music? She rules music?” Stiles said, unsure how to proceed. When Talia only frowned harder, he sighed. “She’s a singer.”

“Oh,” Talia said, unimpressed. “Anyway,” she continued, turning to the rest of her family. “Everyone, this is Dr. Stilinski-”

“Just call me Stiles,” he interrupts.

“-and Dr. Stilinski, this is Princess Cora, my daughter. That is my brother, Lord Peter, and my husband, Alpha-Mate, King Theodore Hale.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. “Oh, hi! Hello, King Theo,” he said, bowing down at his waist and hitting his head against the back of a chair. Refusing to make a sound, despite the tears of pain in his eyes, he smiled. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Stiles moved to sit in the empty chair next to Talia when she stopped him with a wave of her hand.

“That is Prince Derek’s chair,” she said. “You will be sitting besides Peter.”

“Oh, right,” Stiles said, cheeks flaming red. “Of course. Where is Prince Derek, by the way?”

“He is out delegating,” Peter answered with a grin. “He said he’d be back by dinner but I guess things must be taking longer than usual.”

Stiles nodded in understanding as he poured himself some wine. He then filled his plate up with amazing looking food – fried rice, noodles and delicious looking chicken, lathered in a shiny, watery gravy.

_At least I’m going to be getting fucking amazing food,_ he thought to himself as he chowed down.

Talia pushed around her food before completely giving up. Fried rice was her favourite dish, and normally, she’d be eating with gusto. But watching Stiles eat was a horrifying and a somewhat traumatizing experience. He shovelled rice and noodles into his mouth before grabbing the entire chicken leg in his hand and _ripping_ a bite off it. There was sauce all over his mouth and she was pretty sure there was noodle dangling down his ear.

She sighed as she settled back in her chair, giving up on her meal. “So, Dr. Stilinski, we couldn’t help but wonder if you’re somehow related to the great Stilinski family from Poland? The infamous Mages?” she asked, trying her best to smile through her inward cringing.

“Oh, yah,” Stiles mumbled, talking with his mouth open wide enough to show Talia the pulverized noodles in there. “My dad’s a direct descendent. He works as a Sheriff in Beacon Hills now. Pretty badass, if I say so myself.”

“And what about your mother? Is she a Mage too?” Peter asked curiously.

“Nope, she’s badass- _er,”_ Stiles said with a grin, licking and sucking his fingers clean before continuing. “She’s Fae.”

Everyone froze and Stiles continued grinning.

_Hell yeah,_ he thought. _Bask in the glory of my mother._

“You’re part Fae,” Talia said, more of a statement than a question.

“Yup,” Stiles answered smugly. “And to be honest, I am more Fae than Mage. My powers are more ingrained inside me than pulled from the nature.”

Talia coughed and gave him a frigid smile. “Well, that’s wonderful.”

*

“I don’t know, ma, these guys are pretty weird,” Stiles said, chewing on the string of his hoodie as he Skyped his mother. “They kept staring at me like I’m a freak or something. And they don’t even talk! The King didn’t even say a _word,_ and the rest of them act like they’re on twitter; only allowed to speak in under 120 characters.”

“You don’t like any of them?” Claudia asked.

“I mean, I don’t know them enough to like or dislike them,” Stiles admitted. “But first impressions are a thing and they have all failed at it. Peter was the only normal human-I mean, werewolf out of them all. Even though he was sort-of hitting on me. Cora and her dad just sat there eating, and Talia obviously hates me.”

“What about your first impression? Did you make a good one?” John asked from somewhere out of the reach of the camera.

Stiles flushed, remembering how awkward his first meeting with Talia and then with everyone else had been. “I…don’t want to talk about it.”

His father poked his head into the frame and grinned. “Thought so.”

Stiles scoffed softly, frowning. “You’re meant to be on my side, dad,” he whined.

“I _am_ on your side. I’m just saying that first impressions shouldn’t be lasting impressions. Give them a chance,” John replied.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he conceded, scratching his head idly. “Anyway, I’m kind of hungry. I’m just going to grab something to eat from the kitchen and then go to sleep. My first session with His Royal Highness is early tomorrow.”

“Okay, baby,” Claudia said with a smile. “Don’t worry too much, okay? If they don’t stop being asses to you, just come home. You don’t have to put up with them. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, mom,” Stiles said, smiling. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, kiddo.”

*

Stiles chowed down on the chocolate bar he had found in the palace kitchen as he walked back to his room. He had nearly gotten lost twenty times in the last five minutes because the palace had way too many hallways sprouting from everywhere.

As he neared the corridor where he thought his room was, he heard someone’s footsteps right behind him. Without thinking twice about it, he turned around and let his magic surround him and _pushed._

A large, hulking man went flying away from him till his back was pressed against a wall. He growled, eyes flashing golden and nails turning to claws at his side.

“Who are you?” Stiles demanded, pacing forward till he was right in front of the werewolf.

“Who am _I?”_ the other guy growled. “You come to steal in the palace and you don’t even know who the Prince is?”

Stiles’ eyes widened as he immediately let go of his magic. “Oh my god! You’re Prince Derek! Fuck, I am so sorry. I’m Dr. Stilinski,” he said quickly, before Derek could attack him. He offered his hand to the werewolf, who only looked at it in derision. Stiles brought his hand back to his side, blushing for the billionth time that day. Derek opened his mouth to presumably say something when Stiles just barrelled on with an explanation. “I-I am the healer assigned to your father, King Theo. What am I saying? Of course, you know who your father is! A-Are you okay? I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Derek stared at him for a little longer, letting the silence drag on and letting Stiles admire him.

Stiles had seen millions of pictures of Derek Hale. Hell, the entire nation had practically witnessed him growing up, the media making sure to document every move of the royal family. They especially loved Derek, though, and Stiles always thought it was because Derek was the most secretive of them all. Plus, he was the most beautiful of them all. He had hair like his mother, dark and shiny, while Cora’s were lighter, like her father’s. His eyes were like nothing anyone had ever seen. They were mostly a deep, bright green colour, but decorated with specks of blue and grey. His entire face was the Goddess’ way of gifting humanity.

“Um, could you please say something?” Stiles finally asked when the silence drew too long.

“I was just waiting to check if I could actually talk or if you were going to interrupt me again,” Derek said, voice calm and soothing, even in his apparent anger.

“I promise I won’t interrupt,” Stiles answered solemnly.

“Good. Thank you,” Derek said graciously. “I’m sorry I snuck up on you. I thought you were a thief. And I accept your apology. Now, I think we should go to bed and forget this ever happened.”

“Right,” Stiles said, nodding. “Thank you. F-For not ripping me to pieces. Goodnight.”

And then, he ran.

 


	2. Now let the healing start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is slowly loosing his mind as things with Derek get even more awkward, King Theo refuses help, Queen Talia wants to slowly boil him to death and Stiles nearly kills Princess Cora.

Stiles woke up hot and hard.

There was a sheen of sweat on his naked chest and his back was already arching when he woke up. The sheets were pooled around his feet and his boxers were obscenely tented, a wet patch spreading where the head of his erection was pressing insistently.

 _Must have been a hell of a dream,_ Stiles thought to himself as he reached down to palm at his aching dick. Biting his lip at the thrum of pleasure zipping below his skin, he let out a low whine, pressing harder against himself.

Breathing hard through his arousal, he slapped his hand down beside him, grappling for his phone. He was horny, and if his ex-boyfriends had the right to hit him up whenever they wanted for a booty call, then so could he. Scrolling through his contacts, he called up Gabriel because he had the perfect voice for phone sex – deep and smoky when turned on.

“Stiles! What’s up?” he answered on the third ring, sounding cheerful as always.

Stiles rubbed himself through his boxers and moaned softly. “I need you, baby.”

There was a sound of something clattering to the floor and then Gabriel said, “Fuck, you can’t just spring that on me, Stiles! I spilled tea everywhere.”

Stiles laughed, voice low and husky with arousal. “Sorry,” he said, tone completely unapologetic. “Now come on, tell me what you’d do to me if I was there.”

“Oh, I’d do _everything.”_

*

Derek was running away from the fire-breathing unicorn in what appeared to be the Preserve, the back of his body overheated because of how close the monster was. Derek tripped over something invisible and immediately started crawling away, heart thumping wildly in his chest. It was too late now, there was nothing he could do to save himself. The glittery, purple unicorn ambled forward, leaning down till its neon blue horn was nearly poking Derek’s eye out.

Derek swallowed in fear as the unicorn opened its mouth, knowing that his end was here. The unicorn was going to sheesh-kebab him right there, on the wet floor of the Preserve.

“Ahh, _fuck,_ Gabe,” the unicorn moaned.

Derek froze in his attempt to cover his face, frowning in confusion.

“Please, let me cum,” the unicorn moaned again and Derek shuddered in disgust. “I’ll beg if you want me to.”

Just as the unicorn was about to lick a stripe up Derek’s face, he woke up with a start. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm his beating heart as he looked around in confusion.

 _What the fuck was that?_ he thought in alarm, plonking back down on his bed. _Oh my god, am I a furry? Is this my brain’s way of telling me that-that-Fuck! I can’t even_ think _it._

He grabbed his phone from the side-table, deciding it was time to do some research. There was no way he could simply go about his day when he had just had a dream about a sexual unicorn.

“Oh my god,” a hoarse moan sounded somewhere to his left and Derek nearly jumped out of his bed in shock. “Please, please, _please._ I’m s- _ah,_ so close…”

Face burning with embarrassment, Derek finally realised what had happened. It was Dr. Stilinski.

Being werewolves, privacy was a rare commodity in his family. The rooms of the ancient palace were armed with thick walls, but not thick enough to keep the sounds of a private conversation contained. After the accident, his mother had ordered all the rooms to be sound proofed, not only to keep them all from traumatizing each other, but also so no one could eavesdrop on important, confidential conversations. The same courtesy hadn’t been extended to the guests who sometimes stayed over as the guest rooms hadn’t been sound proofed.

With Derek’s coming nuptials to Braeden Tandy, his room was being refurnished again. His mother had ordered him to stay in one of the guest bedrooms till his room was converted from a bachelor pad to something more suited to a married couple.

 _And all of that, led to this, this moment which could honestly have been avoided if luck was ever on my side,_ Derek thought bitterly, just as another loud moan filtered through the wall between his room and Dr. Stilinski’s.

Dr. Stilinski wasn’t what Derek had expected. He had thought that the latest healer would be someone much older, considering how much merit Dr. Deaton had said he had earned. He had expected someone wiser, with silvery, white hair and kind eyes. Especially since he had started connecting Dr. Stilinski with the ancient family of Polish Mages, he had started expecting someone less…skittish and painfully awkward.

But if the power he had exhibited last night by flinging Derek away without even a blink of an eye was anything to go by, he was probably just as exceptional as Dr. Deaton claimed him to be.

 _God, the purple eyes were kind of hot,_ Derek thought as he nestled back into his pillows, hand twitching downwards.

In the moment between Derek creeping closer to who he had believed to be a thief and Dr. Stilinski realising Derek was the prince, the healer had looked completely different from the blubbering fool he really was. As Stilinski had spread his arms, raw energy in the clench of his jaw and posture, before making a pushing motion with his hands, his eyes had gleamed a deep violet. He had looked so sure of himself, so confident and fearless as he flung Derek five feet in the air. There was power in every threatening step he took towards a pinned Derek, and Derek was helpless to the attraction he felt to that self-assured power.

“Are you going to beg for it, Stiles?” a tinny voice asked, and Derek assumed it was coming the speaker of a phone. “Open that cock-sucking mouth and beg for it like the _slut_ you are?”

Whatever arousal had been pooling at the base of Derek’s spine dispelled immediately, despite how loud Dr. Stilinski’s answering moan was. Frowning in discomfort at the degrading language, Derek grabbed his sweatpants off the floor and walked to the shower.

*

Breakfast with the Hales was even worse than dinner, even though Stiles had made sure to be on time and eat with the provided utensils rather than take the easy way out with his fingers.

 _I mean, so what if I sent the sushi flying into Peter? It’s not my fault chopsticks are so hard to use,_ he thought bitterly as he walked to the gym. _Who even eats sushi for breakfast?_

It wasn’t fair that everyone had made such a big deal about him being late _once,_ when no one had even cared that Derek had been fifteen minutes late. He had been odd and jumpy when he had finally arrived. He had even choked on his sushi and sprayed the table with juice when Stiles had finally given up on chopsticks and decided to stick with his fingers. Once again, no one had said anything about _that_ either.

 _Hypocrites,_ Stiles huffed mentally, glaring at the clock in the room he would be using as his private little clinic. King Theo was supposed to have arrived an hour ago for his first check up, and yet, Stiles was stuck all alone in the huge room.

‘Room’ was a relative term. To Stiles, it felt more like a 2BHK apartment. There were huge windows lining the east and north walls, adorned with heavy curtains in a deep burgundy colour. Matching sofas and a heavy table were placed around an ancient looking fireplace. Expensive décor lined the walls and every horizontal surface, enough to make Stiles wary of every breath he took. He was naturally clumsy and he didn’t want Talia to hate him any more than she already did.

Bored out of his mind, he walked over to the massive piano placed in front of one of the windows that faced a huge garden. He plonked down on the bench and admired the view, needing something to occupy him. When he was done counting and naming every type of flower he could see out in the garden, he turned his attention back to the piano. His father had put him in a piano class in school but he had never had the attention span or discipline to learn more than a very calculated keyboard-smash.

Stiles started hesitantly. He poked at the keys to remind himself which one made what sound, pressed different ones that seemed to complement each other and tried to create a half-decent tune. When that clearly didn’t work, he gave up on trying to sound good and started keyboard-smashing like the pro that he was. Closing his eyes to truly enjoy the masterpiece his fingers were banging out, he threw his head back and jammed hard.

“Dr. _Stilinski,”_ a stern voice said from somewhere behind him and Stiles flailed off the bench, his badass tune ending in an awkward squeal.

Gathering his limbs, he pushed himself up to face a very smug, yet somehow irritated looking Derek. _“What?”_ he exclaimed, still startled.

“Could you _please_ tone it down?” Derek asked. “Or completely stop? Since you obviously don’t know how to play a piano, I don’t even know why you’re _trying,_ to be frank.”

Stiles blushed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “It looked easy on Piano Tiles.”

Derek stared at him with a deadpan expression for a few seconds before he sighed loudly. “Look, I’d just like to remind you that you’re living with werewolves. With extra sensitive ears,” Derek said, his face turning red for some reason. He twitched where he stood in the doorway, as if contemplating something before he cleared his throat and added, “Ears that can hear _everything_ despite the walls.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I know. I’m a doctor, I’m aware of what your body can do.”

That only made Derek blush harder. “Are you?” he asked tersely. “Are you really aware?”

“I honestly don’t know where this conversation is going, to be ho-”

“Are you _also_ aware that the guest rooms aren’t sound proof? And that I am your neighbour? And that I am a werewolf that can hear everything despite the walls?”

Derek’s face had now turned the colour of a clown’s nose and Stiles was getting very concerned about his health, especially because he was making no sense whatso-

“Fuck,” Stiles gasped and Derek winced.

“Well, that brings up some unwanted memories,” he mumbled under his breath as Stiles flailed again.

“You-I-today-oh my _god!”_ Stiles exclaimed. “You heard me have phone sex! You heard me _orgasm,_ oh my god.”

“Uh, I mean you were pretty close to it but I, uh, I managed to get away by the time you, um, truly…climaxed,” Derek said lamely, unsure of what to do with himself.

“OH MY GOD WHO THE FUCK SAYS CLIMAXED!” Stiles screamed. His heart was beating at the speed of light with embarrassment and he was sure his entire body was overheated to the point of explosion.

Derek raised his hands in a placating motion as he took a step closer to the hyperventilating healer. “Dr. Stilin-”

“My _name._ Is. _Stiles,”_ Stiles said in irritation, not sure _why_ he was irritated and _who_ he was irritated at.

“Stiles,” Derek continued, “please calm down. It’s no big deal. Sex is a natural part of life and you shouldn’t be ashamed of being sexually active-”

“Please shut up, you’re making it worse,” Stiles moaned from where he was hiding behind his hands.

“What’s going on here?” King Theodore Hale’s voice sounded from behind Derek and Stiles jumped three foot in the air.

“N-Nothing!” Stiles stuttered, trying to glare Derek out of the room. “Nothing at all! I was just telling Derek that you-you were very late for our first session and I, uh, I was just about to go looking for you.”

“Yeah, that’s what…” Derek started saying when Theo turned his wary gaze on his son. “Um, I should get going. You two should. Yeah.”

As soon as Derek ran out of the room, Stiles flung himself towards Theo. He instructed Boyd to wheel him closer to the desk he had set up with all his medical supplies and tried to get his heart to stop racing.

“Right,” he said as he crouched by King Theodore’s legs, forcing himself into business mode. “I’m just going to channel some magic into your legs to see what’s going on down here. If everything is not completely messed up, you _should_ be able to feel a little warmth. I’ll start from your knees to your feet. Tell me as soon as you feel something, okay?”

Theo let out a gruff sound that Stiles took as a ‘yes’ and set to work.

Placing his hands an inch above Theo’s knees, Stiles wiggled his fingers a little, trying to get the magic flowing. He sighed the moment he felt the spark light up in the centre of his chest and travelling to his extremities, a calm heaviness settling in his limbs, relaxing his muscles. A gentle glow lit up the space between the cloth of Theo’s pants and Stiles’ hands, and he knew he had successfully channeled a heating spell.

“I can feel that.”

The magic snapped back into Stiles, giving him a whiplash as he turned his wide eyes to Theo. He had _not_ expected that. “You _can?”_

Theo scowled. “That’s what I just said, isn’t it? It feels warm.”

“B-But!” Stiles sputtered, all thoughts of Derek and his own embarrassing existence out of his mind. “That is _amazing!_ You have sensation in your legs! That means you could potentially make a full recovery.”

“So I’ve been told,” Theo said without inflection. “Well, if we’re done, I think I’ll return to my business now.”

Stiles grabbed a handful of Theo’s trousers before he could ask Boyd to take him away. “Wait! We just started. Our sessions are supposed to be at least two hours long or it will take much longer for me to get you back on your feet.”

Theo’s nostrils flared, eyes flashing a dangerous golden as they flicked down to where Stiles was holding him. “Take your hands off me,” he growled and Stiles was quick to comply. “I will do as I wish, and right now, I do not want to waste my time with _you._ I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, the king sashayed out of the room, Boyd trailing behind him with a disapproving look on his face.

Stiles stared in shock, still crouched on the floor. “What the fuck is wrong with these people?”

*

“I feel like I’m back in high school,” Stiles said to his mother. “Nobody likes me, I am all alone all the time, everyone looks at me like I’m some kind of freak and I don’t know what to do with myself.”

If nothing else, Stiles really loved the Wi-Fi in the royal palace. Skyping his mother had never been this high definition before. There were no awkward lags and it was clear enough that Stiles could see even the slightest widening of Claudia’s eyes and nostrils in anger.

“Gracjan, wróć do domu,” she seethed, pointing a finger at the camera. “Who do these people think they are? To treat you like shit?”

Stiles hummed, letting his eyes wander across the garden he was sitting in. “I really am considering giving up,” he replied. “King Theo has missed three entire sessions this past week. If he does decide to _grace_ me with his presence, he only stays for like, five minutes. I can’t work like this. I don’t know if this is a joke to him, but I take my job seriously. There’s potential for him to start walking again, but if he is unwilling to put in the work, then there isn’t much I can do for him.”

“Exactly,” Claudia answered with a nod. “You’re his healer, not nanny.”

Just as he was about to reply, a shadow near the outer walls of the garden he had been staring at caught his attention and he frowned.

The shadow was a person.

A person dressed in all black who was now ninja-walking towards the palace.

“Ma, I’ll call you back later,” Stiles said abruptly, keeping his iPad away as he settled down to watch the person slink closer. He couldn’t help but huff in amusement when the stranger spotted Stiles sunbathing and ducked to hide behind the flimsiest bush ever. “You know you’re not really doing a very good job at being sneaky. Can’t be a criminal if you can’t even spot people sitting right in front of you.”

The bush twitched but the person remained stubbornly hidden. Stiles sighed in annoyance at having to get up. He’d been hoping that the person would underestimate Stiles like everyone always did and try to attack him where he sat so he wouldn’t have to move from his toasty spot. He strode towards the bush, rubbing his hand against his chest as he felt the magic flow outwards into his hands.

Raising a hand in front of him, Stiles pushed his magic forward and heard the person let out a surprised gasp when the magic wrapped itself around them. He pulled at the string of magic, ripping the person out from the bushes and at his feet. The stranger twitched, obviously trying to free themselves from the hold of the magic and failing.

Stiles crouched down and pulled off the ski-mask. His eyes widened in surprise when they met the famous green Hale eyes.

“Princess Cora!” he exclaimed and she blushed as she continued to writhe against the invisible force keeping her immobile. “What in the fuck are _doing?”_

“Could you release me first, please?” she said, looking away in embarrassment.

“Right, of course,” Stiles said, tone still confused as he reigned the magic back in.

 _Great job, Stiles,_ he thought bitterly. _This is the second Hale you have attacked. You’re all out of Hale siblings to assault now._

Cora sat up, rubbing up and down her arms as she resolutely stared down at the ground. “Um,” she mumbled. “I’m not sure how to explain this.”

“But I really, really need an explanation,” Stiles replied, sitting cross-legged on the grass as he waited patiently.

“Er, well. You see, I’m not allowed to…Well, mom wants me to focus on studying and extra-curricular activities that will look good on my college application,” Cora started, gesturing with her hands. “And that’s fine. I want to get into a good university too. B-But more than that, I want to do what makes me happy, right?”

“Yeah,” Stiles encouraged.

“A-And…dancing makes me _really_ happy,” she said, a bright blush tinging her cheeks. She looked at Stiles through her eyelashes, as if trying to gauge his reaction to that.

“That’s great! So you like dancing,” Stiles summarised. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re wearing ninja clothes and scaling the walls of your own house.”

The blush on Cora’s face reddened ten fold at that and she brushed her hair behind her ear, biting her lip in embarrassment. “I, uh, go dancing with my f-friends sometimes,” she said. “I’m not supposed to leave anywhere without guards and permission so I just…leave. On my own.”

Stiles eyes widened at that. “But Cora! Isn’t that dangerous? For you to go out without any security?”

“I am not the heir,” Cora replied, rolling her eyes. “And we dance just behind the palace. It’s not like I go anywhere public.”

Stiles bit his lip to keep the protests in. He wasn’t her parent and it would be very hypocritical of him to advise caution considering he had never been anything but reckless and impulsive all his life. “So…” he said. “What kind of dancing do you do? I’m not very literate about dancing styles but I know the major ones.”

Cora plucked at the grass in front of her as she answered, “Not the ‘respectable’ kind, according to my mother. It’s mostly street dancing. You know, hip-hop and b-boying and stuff.”

“Oh, that is fucking _amazing,”_ Stiles exclaimed, clapping his hands in excitement, and Cora looked up in pleased surprise. “I don’t know what b-boying is but it sounds pretty fucking cool.”

Cora laughed, a genuine, belly-deep laugh, and it sounded like relief. “It’s breakdancing, basically. We’re no professionals. Just some kids dancing and singing and having fun.”

“You could get someone to teach you,” Stiles suggested, but Cora shook her head.

“First of all, no one would agree to come teach us in an abandoned barn just outside the palace walls,” she said, smiling. “And I kind of like how we are. We learn whatever we can from YouTube and the rest we make up on our own. It’s very raw, but I like it like that. We don’t want to be amazing dancers. We just want to have fun, and I feel like hiring a teacher would just make it another thing I have to ace.”

The smile had completely drained off Cora’s face by the time she finished talking. Her posture was incredibly despondent. She sat slouched over, plucking at the grass like a sad little puppy.

Stiles reached out to place a reassuring hand over hers before he could stop himself. He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging and supportive smile and said, “I’d love to see you dance someday, if that’s okay with you.”

“You would?” Cora asked, eyes wide in surprise.

Stiles laughed. “Of course I would! I can already tell you’re going to be amazing.”

She scoffed, even though there was a small smile curling her lips upwards. “How can you know that?”

Stiles shrugged in response. “You have passion. Passion makes for great talent.”

*

A couple weeks later, Stiles felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin.

Theo continued to act like a jerk every time Stiles so much as breathed in his direction and skipped most therapy sessions. Talia seemed to always be pissed off when Stiles was around, and that never failed to amuse Peter. Stiles couldn’t even _jerk-off_ because he didn’t want to traumatise Derek.

In his boredom and frustration, Stiles had redecorated his room four times, taken up and then given up gardening and even tried out the piano a couple of times when no one was in the same building as him.

The only moments of reprieve in his life were the ones spent with Cora and her friends in the abandoned barn. Her friends weren’t the rich kids from her school, like Stiles had assumed, but kids in fake Gucci's who had let Cora in when she’d discovered them chilling out in the barn the first time. They were a laid back bunch of kids who had somehow set up a beat-up stereo system and liked to eat a lot of junk food.

Stiles felt completely at home with them.

Cora was an amazing dancer. Although Stiles didn’t know much about dancing, he knew enough to know talent when he saw it. They were all loud, abrasive and so, so talented.

But Cora had exams, so Stiles had spent the last week sulking around the palace, Skyping with his mom and _not_ having phone sex to pass time.

Stiles bit his lip in arousal and frustration as his phone buzzed with another dick-pic, courtesy of Jacob. As much of an asshole as his ex was, he had a very aesthetically pleasing cock, the kind that makes you want to have your mouth _all over_ _that_ _thang._

Huffing in irritation, Stiles kicked the blanket off himself and jumped out of bed. Without caring about the racket he was making or how it was nearly midnight, he slammed the door of his room open as he stamped his way over to Derek’s room.

He pushed his way into Derek’s room and the werewolf just looked up in wariness, already having heard Stiles approaching. Stiles hated how calm and composed he looked, sitting at his desk, when Stiles was _dying_ of lack of masturbation.

Stiles felt a little flustered now that he was actually in Derek’s room and unsure of what to say. “I know I forgot to knock, but I’m frustrated,” he declared.

Derek raised an eyebrow in response, looking pointedly at Stiles’ legs. “You also forgot to wear any pants but I guess we’re blaming frustration for that too,” he replied.

Stiles refused to give Derek the satisfaction of embarrassing him, even though he could feel his face heating up. “Yes, we are,” he said, marching forward till he was right in front of Derek. “I am _sexually_ frustrated and it is all your fucking fault.” That seemed to shock Derek out of his blasé demeanour and Stiles gave himself a mental pat on the back. “That’s right. It isn’t fair that I don’t get to jerk off because you have super hearing. It’s not fair that you can hear me when I can’t hear _you,_ so you can do whatever!”

The tips of Derek’s ear reddened completely at that and it took him a couple seconds to say, “Y-You want to hear me masturbate?”

Stiles gaped like a fish out of water, replaying what he’d just said before it dawned on him. “That’s not what I meant!” he exclaimed. Derek’s lips twitched downwards a little at that and Stiles backtracked completely. He didn’t know why Derek seemed saddened by the fact that Stiles didn’t want to creep on him, but he didn’t want to ever be the reason Derek felt bad about himself. “I mean, n-not that I’d mind listening to you getting off because you seem like a truly amazing guy when you’re not, you know, glaring at me. I’m sure you sound absolutely amazing in bed, but that is not what I was getting at.”

Derek sighed as he sat back in his chair, giving up on whatever he was working on for the time being. “What _are_ you getting at?”

“I don’t know, okay!” Stiles exclaimed, hands flailing in agitation. “I’m bored because your dad won’t come to any of our therapy sessions and I have to let perfectly beautiful dick-pics go because I can’t traumatise you!”  

Derek furrowed his incredibly furry brows at that. “Dad isn’t showing up for therapy?”

“No, he isn’t,” Stiles said in a clipped tone as he flung himself onto Derek’s bed. Derek raised one of his impressive eyebrows in his direction and Stiles just snuggled deeper into Derek’s bed. “You should talk to him.”

Derek sighed. “And say what?”

Stiles scowled at him. “What do you mean, ‘say what?’ He’s your dad! Tell him to stop messing about. Whenever ma or dad get a little off-track, I’m the one who has to make them see sense. Just do that.”

Derek scoffed, leaning back in his chair and abandoning whatever papers he was reading. “That’s not how it works in the royal family,” he said.

 “Right, sorry. I forgot that the royal family is too fucking emotionally constipated,” Stiles bit out in irritation as he pushed himself up and off the bed. “I’m just gonna go before I say something I regret,” he muttered under his breath as he walked out of Derek’s room.

*

“Braeden,” Derek said with a smile as he walked towards his fiancée. The afternoon sunlight made her look ethereal as she sat in the outdoor café, a floral dress accentuating the gentle curves of her body. “You look beautiful as ever.”

She smiled, a genuine one that made her eyes wrinkle at the corners. Pressing a little peck to Derek’s stubbly cheek, she said, “You look absolutely stunning too.”

Derek couldn’t help the blush that heated up his cheeks at that. He wasn’t good with praise in general, but something about the way Braeden regards him really makes him feel ten times more awkward. “Uh, thank you.”

“Have a seat,” she said, grinning. “So, how are you?”

“Great,” he answered, trying to look like he hadn’t been up all night thinking of what Stiles had told him. “What about you?”

She shrugged, giving him a lopsided smile. “Same as always, I guess. But unfortunately, I do have to leave for a meeting in half an hour so we should quickly get to it.”

Derek felt his shoulders slump in relief. He hated small talk and he hated how awkward he got when he was forced to have a personal conversation. He was horrible at it, and the fact that he was supposed to keep Braeden interested _through_ his conversation just made him worse. Maybe it shouldn’t be that way, maybe conversation with the person he was going to spend the rest of his life with shouldn’t be hard, but it was how it was.

“Yeah,” Derek found himself saying. “I have a list for all the things we still need to figure out about the wedding. Let’s start with the main issue first. Date. We still haven’t decided on one solid date for the wedding and if we don’t know that, we can’t start narrowing down locations and catering.”

“Hmm,” Braeden mumbled as she looked over Derek’s list. “I have a week free in the end of October.”

“Let me just check my schedule,” Derek replied, quickly going over the calendar in his phone. “Ahh, I have a couple appointments but I’m sure I can cancel them or have them moved to another date.”

“Perfect,” Braeden said, the grin returning to her face. “So end of October?”

Derek smiled back. “End of October.”

*

Stiles was hungry. Again.

And sleepless. Again.

Huffing in frustration, he kicked off his blankets and scrambled for slippers before slipping out of his room in the middle of the night.

_Again._

“Really fucking hope there isn’t a Hale sibling creeping around the hallways tonight,” he muttered under his breath as he stomped his way to the kitchen. He knew he was probably making too much noise for a werewolf infested castle but he absolutely could not care. The Hales were being absolute dicks to him and he deserved to give them a little taste of their own medicine.

As he banged open the door to the kitchen, he was shocked to see Boyd, Isaac and Erica standing there with alarmed faces, hands behind their backs.

“Uh, D-Dr. Stilinski,” Erica stuttered, cheeks red. “What are you doing up at this hour.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes and took a cautious step towards them, letting magic run up to the tips of his fingers just in case. “You never call me Dr. Stilinski, Erica,” he said. “What are _you_ all doing up at two in the morning?”

“N-Nothing.” It was Isaac that spoke this time, looking equally guilty. “Just preparing for tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah? Are Erica and Boyd helping you cook?”

“Yup!” Isaac agreed with an enthusiastic nod. “Yeah! Yes, totally. Yup-di-doo.”

“Mm, that’s three yeses too many,” Stiles said and watched the three of them gulp nervously. Stiles sighed. “Just tell me what you’re doing before I magic it out of you.”

“You can’t do that,” Boyd said, eyes wide in fear.

Stiles let a little bit of the power building up inside him to shine through his eyes. “Do you really want to test that?”

“We were drinking!” Isaac blurted as soon as a hint of violet entered Stiles’ eyes. “Alcohol! Vodka, to be specific! That’s all! Look!” he shouted, forcing Erica to bring her hands forward to show Stiles the bottle of vodka she was clutching by the neck.

 _“Isaac!”_ Boyd and Erica hissed at the same time before the three of them turned fearfully to Stiles.

“You were all _drinking_ in the palace kitchen at two in the morning?” Stiles said, disappointment coating his words. “Partying it up? _Without me?”_

“Wait what?” Boyd said in surprise as Stiles strode forward to grab the bottle from Erica and gulped down several bitter sips.

“I don’t care what we’re celebrating or mourning, you have vodka, you get me.”

*

“Y’know, you guys are the only good thing here,” Stiles said, gently petting the three of them one by one. “The on’y _normal_ people here. Normal weres, I mean. Fuck, why do I keep correcting people to werewolves? Same difference, right? Oh my god, is it specie-ist when I do that? Am I an asshole?”

“Calm down, Stilinskinator,” Erica mumbled where she was lying with her head in Boyd’s lap. “You’re not an asshole. You’re nice. You’re very nice. I feel like I’d love you if Boyd hadn’t gotten to me first. You’re _that_ nice.” 

“Why do you know what my Instagram username?”

“Is it Stilinskinator?”

“Yes!”

“I don’ know, I think I have powers or something."

"And the Hales are not assholes either," Isaac added, stretching across the kitchen aisle to grab another packet of Cheetos. "They're jus'..." He sighed, letting his head hang despondently. "They've been through s-so much, ya know?" he said sadly and Erica nodded, sitting up a little so she could pat Isaac on the head. "They weren't always like this. Alpha Hale was n-never..."

Another sigh and it seemed like Isaac wasn't going to be continuing.

"What?" Stiles asked, curiosity peaking through the haze of drunkenness.

"After Princess Laura died...they all changed," Erica finished for him and Isaac sniffled. Boyd wrapped an arm around him in comfort and pulled him closer to them.

Stiles knew about the death of Princess Laura Hale three years ago.

On the day of Laura Hale's 21st birthday, while the world had been preparing for the celebrations to start, news had gone around that there had been a devastating car accident and both the King and the Princess had been rushed to the hospital. 

An hour later, the nation cried in unison as Laura Hale was pronounced dead.

"Alpha Hale used to be...She used to be fun and she used to love her kids so much," Boyd added quietly. "When Laura...When we lost Laura, it was Alpha Hale died with her. She changed completely. She wasn't always so apathetic."

"It didn't just effect her, though," Isaac said. "King Hale was the one who gifted the car to Laura. He still blames himself. He thinks that maybe if he hadn't bought her the sports car, she would have never lost control and he wouldn't have lost her."

Something clicked in Stiles' brain and a wave of sadness his heart. His shoulders drooped and his eyes watered as he finally understood. "That's why he's been refusing treatment..." he whispered and the three werewolves nodded sadly.

"That's why you can't give up, Stiles," Boyd said, voice firm and determined. "I know they're not the easiest to deal with but you have all of us on your side. Please don't give up on them."

Stiles swallowed.

**Author's Note:**

> Team I-was-supposed-to-be-studying-but-I-wrote-fanfiction-instead, holla at me! Some notes first:
> 
> 1\. The basic plot of this story has been completely ripped off from the Disney movie, [Khoobsurat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOreDBy1YfI), which you should definitely watch because it is one of my favourite movies ever!
> 
> 2\. The title is from ['Scars'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YvGp4yA2NgQ) by Tove Lo. That song is actually way too perfect for this story.
> 
> Now that we've got all the Very Important crediting out of the way, I'd just like to say that I had so much fun writing this! I love writing humourous stories with extremely awkward characters, and I also love Stiles and Derek. I wanted to write the whole story first and then post it as a one-shot, but then I decided I needed the constant motivation from comments and kudos to finish off this story, hence the chaptered version. :) 
> 
> So if you liked the story, please leave kudos and PLEASE leave comments. It motivates me a lot and I need way too much motivation to write. Thank you!


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